


To Marry a King

by roonilwazlibnthe1_2bloodprince



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Grounder Clarke Griffin, canonverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-11-16 23:05:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11262882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roonilwazlibnthe1_2bloodprince/pseuds/roonilwazlibnthe1_2bloodprince
Summary: With the Grounders' violence and the Ark's potential arrival, Bellamy makes a plan to gain the upper hand and eliminate both threats.  It should work great, but that Grounder princess seems determined to make things difficult.





	1. A King Newly Crowned

                “This is a terrible idea.”

                Bellamy’s eyes darted from his sister to a small group of Grounders.  They were whispering several yards away in a language present company had trouble understanding, but it was foolish to be careless.  The Grounders had showed no hesitance against violence when there was no cause.  He would hate to think what they would do if they were to uncover the lie he was feeding them.

                “Yeah?” he shot back.  “Name a better one.”

                “Literally anything else,” She raised her eyebrows higher than most people were capable, an expression he swore she learned from lock-up because there was no way she was that belligerent when he knew her before.  “This is _dangerous_.  Even if they don’t figure it out, even if none of ours decide to get smart and spill everything, there’s no way it’ll stand once _they_ -” she jut her head to the sky “-get down here.  Jaha’s not exactly a friend of yours at the moment.”

                Her brother huffed and cast a look at the still distracted Grounders before answering, “Our people know better than that.  If the Grounders are going after one of us, they’re going after us all; there’s no way they’d believe anyone didn’t know what I was doing.  As for _them_ , there’s no telling if they’ll ever come down-“

                Octavia was clearly unimpressed.

                “-and if they do, _we’ll_ have the advantage.  Chancellor or not, Jaha will have to keep us safe and happy if he’s going to keep peace with the Grounders.  And we’ll make sure they know how they need peace with the Grounders.”

                His sister failed to argue and although her expression showed she was still thinking, he was starting to grow confident he had convinced her.  She was quiet so long he actually startled when she spoke.

                “When you say ‘we have the advantage’,” she started cautiously, “who’s ‘we’?  Do you mean _us_ or…?”

                Bellamy hardly fought against the smile growing on his face.  “Of course I mean you and me, O.  No more living under the floor.  How do you feel about being sister to the ambassador?”  Watching her face threaten to fall, he added, “But that doesn’t mean it won’t help the rest of the 100.  They’ll be the privileged of the new Ark- I’ll be sure of it.  Otherwise, what do they have?  Criminal records and no respect from the council.”

                Quietly, not even bothering to meet his eye, his sister corrected, “Jaha said they were clearing our records.”

                He snorted.  “And he said something as well about being grateful, if I remember correctly.  Do you honestly believe that?”

                Octavia looked over to where the Grounder were having their own conversation about the merits of this proposal.  She didn’t bother answering him; of course she doubted.  There was no reason to think the Ark would come down suddenly thinking of the 100 as heroes other than the fact that they deserved it and what did that matter to the council?  They _had_ already lied to the Grounders, which could mean death, and discord with the Grounders could mean death and not having resources to survive harsher weather could mean death and Jaha coming down to them powerless could mean death, at least for her brother.  There was a strong possibility of death no matter which chance they took.  At least this way they had the ability to negotiate.

                Finally, she looked up from the moss on a nearby tree and met her brother’s eye.

                “Fine.  But I still think you’re insane.”

                Bellamy gave a small, almost sad smile.  “You should show more respect to your king.”

                “I thought you were chancellor.”

                “Same difference,” he answered flippantly.  And now when he glanced over to the Grounders he focused on one head in particular.  “Whatever’s needed to marry a princess.”


	2. A Healer Still Questioning

                “This is madness.”

                Abigail shot a reprimanding look at her daughter before glancing over to the senior clan members standing at the doorway.

                “It’s an _honor_.”

                Her daughter rolled her eyes, but thankfully kept her back to their leaders.  “They chose me because they think I’m expendable.”

                “Nonsense,” Abby said curtly.  “You are a nearly fully trained healer, already one of our best.  They would be fools not to value that and our leaders are not fools.”

                “No, just underhanded,” her daughter answered darkly.

                Abby cast an anxious glance again to the doorway.  “ _Clarke_.”

                Clarke met her eye unapologetically.  “It’s pretty obvious why they’re _really_ sending me away.”

                “Clarke…” her mother warned once more.

                The younger woman scoffed but turned her focus to the new herbs they were supposedly sorting.  “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to our honorable leaders.  I know where that will get me.”

                With sad eyes, Abby gently placed a hand over her daughters, even as it continued its task.  “Honey…”

                “Don’t,” Clarke snapped then, seeing her face, softened almost to a whisper.  “Please don’t.”

                Abby withdrew her hand and schooled her face back to one of admonishment.

                “Well, you don’t have to like their plans; just make sure you obey them.”

                “I will.”

                All traces of sadness gone, only business in her expression, Abby took her daughter’s face in a gentle but firm hand.  “Don’t be flippant.  Whatever your feelings, once you enter that camp you don’t breathe a _word_ -“

                “Don’t worry, I won’t,” Clarke answered with a hard voice.  Seeing her mother’s surprise at her conviction, she continued, “Don’t you realize this is the last card in our hand?  If we don’t have this, the leaders-“

                “The leaders will do what’s best for their people,” Abby interrupted sternly, “And no matter what you seem to think, we are still their people.”

                Clarke looked ready to protest, but she closed her mouth abruptly when she noticed the leaders approaching.

                The imposing figure that was their chief, Anya, stopped directly before Clarke.  “Healer, are you ready for our meeting?”

                “Don’t you mean princess?” Clarke quipped, but the leaders’ faces remained frozen.

                There was a moment of tense silence that had Abby glancing worried between her daughter and her leaders before she finally broke in.

                “You must allow my daughter her jokes now, Anya,” she started with a diplomatic smile.  “It remains to be seen if this Ski Kru has any sense of humor.”

                Anya bowed her head briefly with a tight smile of her own.  “Forgiven, Madam Healer.  Your daughter is right to call herself our… princess.”

                “Even if it’s a lie?” Clarke questioned, testing her luck once more.

                Anya narrowed her eyes.  “Especially because it is a lie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait. As always, I hope to learn from what you have to say- criticism is warmly welcomed. Thank you for reading!


	3. A Ceremony Performed

                 The wedding ceremony was simple.  Both sides were too worried of offending the other to add too many of their own traditions so all that was left was whatever was absolutely necessary to get the job done.  There were no speeches, no bridesmaids, no kisses.  They did get rings because it seemed important they at least have something indicating an event took place that day and rings were something both sides understood.

                There was a small toast afterwards because it was Grounder tradition to have a toast after treaties and 100 tradition to accept any alcohol offered to them.  It didn’t last very long, though.  Everyone was too uncomfortable with all the people they didn’t fully trust, even the people from their own camp, to nurse their drinks.

                At the end of day, not much seemed to have changed.  The princess left with the Grounders with no more than a nod to her new husband.  Her people had requested ahead of time that she finish her training, insisting it would make her a more valuable bride anyhow.  Bellamy never gave protest even before their reasoning.  The way he saw it, they could keep their precious princess with them as long as they like until Jaha came down.  He didn’t need some Grounder snob breathing down his neck as he was trying to figure out how to lead his people.  So long as they kept the peace, he was happy with things as they were.

                “She’s going to come back with us one of these days,” Octavia warned.

                Bellamy continued to watch the retreating Grounders.  “Not until she’s done with her training.  We’ll be fine.”

                Shaking her head, Octavia put a hand on his shoulder before walking away.  “Just as long as you’re done with _your_ training then, too.”


	4. A Duty Fulfilled

                It was two months after the wedding before Bellamy saw his bride again.  He had begun to impose greater order on the unruly teenagers that made up his camp in preparation for her eventual arrival, but they all had a ways to go.

There were people who worked too slowly, people who couldn’t do as much work, and some who refused to do any work at all.  It seemed impossible to know if any of the crops they planted were actually doing well and everyone seemed to have a different opinion of what they should do about it.  Some of the younger ones didn’t have clothes to fit them properly after growth spurts and some of the older ones, stronger ones, were taking supplies they didn’t need.  To reprimand anyone doing anything would be risking unpopularity, which was something he couldn’t afford, especially with the princess coming soon.  But to show off a community devoid of justice wouldn’t go over well, either.

                The only people truly on his side were Miller, who was even less interested in being disliked than he was, Murphy, who may or may not be an asshole, Charlotte, who was a little girl with no sway in the delinquent power structure, and Octavia, who every few days would become irrationally angry with him over something.  The princess was coming, winter was coming, the chancellor may be coming.

                And then Murphy got sick.

                It started out like a cold, normal enough.  But then quickly, by the end of the day, it turned to a full fever.  The next morning his eyes were gaunt and saw visions of people that weren’t there as he swayed in and out of consciousness.  They did their best to keep him comfortable, keep him hydrated, but his condition still didn’t improve.  And then the people who cared for him became sick and there were fewer people willing to bring them water and blankets.

                Octavia approached him on the fifth day of the sickness.

                “I know you don’t want to do this…”

                He shot her a look.  “We don’t need their help.”

                His sister laid a hand on his elbow, turned him to face her even as he kept his head pointed to the dropship.  “They said she was a healer, Bellamy.  And she is-“

                “We _can’t_ need their help,” he interrupted, sounding desperate.  Finally, he was looking her in the eye.  “This alliance we have with them isn’t strong, Octavia.  _We_ aren’t strong.  And the only thing those _people_ respect, is strength.  Until we’re strong, or can at least pretend we are, we can’t ask them for a damn thing.”

                “Half the camp is sick,” she countered.

                He gave a half smile.  “Half of it’s healthy.”

                “So, you’re willing to give up half the camp to appear strong?” Octavia bit back.  “There’s no one taking care of them; they’re too afraid of getting sick themselves.”

                “I’ll take care of them.”

                And he did.  He was in and out of the dropship near constantly.  Wrapping people in blankets.  Fetching water.  Pouring it down their throats.  Grabbing some food.  Feeding it to them gently.  Placing wet cloths on their foreheads.  Out to get water again.

                It was no surprise when he fell sick as well, although he fought it for a day or so.  Even after he was quarantined permanently to the drop ship, it was he that stepped out to grab the containers of water Octavia had the healthy leaving outside.  He did his best to distribute it even as he was fighting off sleep and strange dreams himself.  Murphy, surprisingly, did what he could to help.  But then eventually it wasn’t enough and they both were stumbling back to their spots on the floor, unable to get up again.

                When Bellamy woke up next, it was to an angel leaning over him.  The angel tipped water into his mouth, which he slurped sloppily.  She held his head up to help him and it was then that he noticed that the angel smelled.  It wasn’t a horrible smell, strictly, just a bit of normal body odor, but it was enough to suggest that the angel giving him water wasn’t an angel at all.  This was a bit of a strange realization to make because he was sure at this point that he knew each of the girls in the camp and this was none of them.  It took him far too long to recognize that the girl giving him water was in fact his wife.

                “What are you-“

                “Shh,” she answered gently, trying to give him more water.

                He pushed it away, tried to sit up more and she let him, although reluctantly.

                “You shouldn’t be here,” he said with what might have been a glare if he were healthy enough to manage one.  Then again, if he were healthier he would have had better wisdom than to glare at the princess.

                “Shhhh,” she repeated, longer this time, with what might have been an eye roll if he could actually believe a Grounder princess were capable of such a thing.

                More diplomatic this time, even laying back down again to indicate his goodwill, he warned, “You’ll get sick.  It’s contagious.  It’s spreads very-“

                “I know what contagious means,” she snapped without much heat.

                Bellamy blinked a few times at hearing her voice and, more than that, her tone.  At the ceremony that passed for their wedding, her only words were short promises: ‘I will’, ‘Yes’, and ‘I do’.  Other than those, he was realizing now, he had never heard her speak.

                “This disease is not new to my people,” she continued.  “I had it when I was a little girl and am now immune.  I will not get-“

                “I know what immune means,” he interrupted.

                She gave a half smile, which quickly faded.  “You should have sent for me sooner.”

                “I didn’t send for you at all,” he answered bluntly.

                “No,” the princess said with a bit of dark humor, “You have your sister to thank for that.”

                “Octavia?!”

                Bellamy startled, sitting up abruptly, although this time she pushed him down.

                “Octavia probably saved your life.”  The princess looked around at all the people crammed into the small ship.  “Saved your camp.”  She met his eye fiercely before repeating, “You should have sent for me sooner.”

                Suddenly he remembered the other delinquents sick around him.  His voice turned urgent.  “You should be taking care of them first.”

                She shook her head.  And he thought he saw something else in her face before she said,  “You are the king.”

                Bellamy pushed weakly against the hand that still held a wet cloth to his forehead.  “I don’t care about that.  Take care of them first.  They’ve been here longer and-“

                “You are my husband.”

                They both froze at that, staring into each other’s eyes, not with love but shock.  They were married, her a wife, him a husband.  It didn’t mean to them what it was traditionally meant to, but Bellamy realized then, and he supposed she did also, that it did mean something.  And right then it meant she was going to give him water first.

                “You’ve probably had enough for now,” she relented finally, mostly to break the silence.  “I will continue on my rounds.”

                He nodded weakly, his eyes following the princess as she passed out water until finally they drooped once more in sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading- it's really cool of you to do so. I'll have more actions in future chapters; this one was mostly to establish the premise and get me started on writing it. I hope you like the premise because I rather like this premise.
> 
> You must be a busy person with plenty on your plate and this is supposed to be a relaxing time to read with no other obligations or people bothering you to adopt obligations BUT I would totally appreciate it if you would take the time to leave a comment. I am so not a professional writer and your wonderful feedback helps me learn. Thanks again!


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